


I Never Really Cared Until I Met You

by citizenjess (givehimonemore)



Category: X-Men Evolution
Genre: Apocalypse, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-01
Updated: 2012-01-01
Packaged: 2017-10-28 15:31:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/309352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/givehimonemore/pseuds/citizenjess
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Magneto comes home. Takes place shortly after the series finale.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Never Really Cared Until I Met You

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from the song "Alone"; I'm thinking of the Kristin Chenowith version from "Glee," though I know that's not the original.

It's odd coming back alive from Armageddon. Apocalypse still seems intimately connected with him; Magneto can still feel the demi-god's energy surging through him, controlling him, making his very heart beat. It's an alien, ancient feeling, and he knows it will stay with him for a long time. Then, warring with that is the love he feels for his children; the relief that coursed through him when he woke up and he was himself again, and his children, his flesh and blood, were there, frowning down at him worriedly, and then helping him to stand. "Let's go home, Dad," Wanda had murmured, and he hadn't even had to ask where she meant, because, of course, there was only one possible place.

The Xavier mansion had gone through several changes in the past year or so, a direct result of it having been decimated and then needing to be rebuilt. Its walls were familiar, yet different, and Magneto felt even stranger when he made his way up the front steps, rather than entering through one of several secret passageways in the dead of night (the sun was currently shining) like he usually did. 'Do I knock on the door?' he thinks randomly, but then the knob turns of its own accord, and a number of small faces peer out at him curiously.

"That's a weird helmet," one of Charles' students comments, and then he's shoved out of the way by a brunette female who can't be older than about twelve. "Are you here to see the professor?" she asks, and Magneto nods. The students disperse, but stare after him as he strides through the foyer, and then up the stairs to where he knows Charles' study, and Charles, will be.

"It's open," Charles calls as Magneto reaches the door, and he lets himself in. "Good afternoon, Erik," Charles says cordially, and he nods, taking a seat in front of Charles' expansive oak desk. "What can I do for you?" the other man asks, and Erik thinks he looks different, somehow, and wonders how much Charles remembers about what happened to them.

"Can't a man visit an old friend?" he asks idly, drawing out the interaction, not yet sure how to broach what he wants to say. Fortunately, Charles' telepathy and considerable empathy steer the conversation rather painlessly in a specific direction.

"Do you still feel him, too?" Charles asks, and Magneto looks up into Charles' worried gaze. "He's still here," Charles murmurs, placing a hand to his head. "I can still feel what he was thinking, what he thought the future would be. Our future, Erik."

Magneto considers this. "Will you show me?" he asks tentatively, and pulls his helmet off, setting it on the floor at his feet. Still, Charles hesitates, and Magneto reaches out and grasps the other man's hand warmly. "Please?" he begs, and Charles acquiesces. Through their touch, Charles transfers his visions to Erik: He sees his children, grown-up and thriving, and it makes his heart sing; he watches Jean's hideous transformation, and hears Charles sigh in his mind, 'I can't help but feel as though I will have somehow caused this'; and then, finally, he sees himself. He's ... happy, he realizes with a start. The man he knows himself to be is still there, of course, but there is a lightness to his movements, a pleasured expression on his face, and at that moment, Magneto knows that this can actually happen, if only he will allow it to be. He glances back at Charles as the memories start to replay and then peter off, and thinks, 'our future.'

'Yes.' Charles stares at him tentatively. The mental connection breaks, and the air appears to buzz around him. "I've long dreamed of you coming to teach at the institute," Charles tells him. "Your talents would be a considerable boon. The students would be particularly lucky to have you here."

Magneto nods slowly. "And what of you, Charles?" he ventures. "What of us?"

Charles smiles, his heart on his sleeve. "I would be the luckiest of all," he says, his voice barely above a whisper. He looks away quickly. "But I understand that you won't," he adds, and straightens in his chair. "I know that our paths are too deviant, our goals too differently formed. I've gotten used to asking and having you turn me down every time," he says, and there's a small smile on his face, now. "I've gotten quite good at it, actually."

Magneto considers this. Then, to Charles' surprise, he stands, and traverses the short distance around to the other side of Charles' desk, and then kneels in front of Charles' wheelchair on both knees. Charles opens his mouth to say something, and Magneto puts a hand on the other man's knee. "What if I didn't turn you down this time?" he asks carefully. "What if we just got over ourselves and called a truce and let ourselves be happy together for once? Would you be able to get used to that, too, Charles?"

Charles swallows. When his hand touches Magneto's, his fingers shake, before winding around the other man's gloved digits. "I think I could learn to work with that," he gets out, and then his face is tucked into Magneto's shoulder, dampening the fabric beneath with a sudden outpouring of tears. "Erik, thank you," he murmurs with a soft shudder, and Erik pulls back enough so that he can watch Charles' lovely, tear-stained face.

"If anything, I should be thanking you," he tells the other man, allowing Charles to cradle the hand pressed against his cheek. "So thank you, Charles," he continues, and Charles beams at him. "For being patient. For still wanting this. For wanting me."

"You're welcome," Charles replies. Their kiss is chaste, a soft, yet firm melding of mouths more than anything, and Charles acquiesces when Erik pulls away so that he can stand, brushing errant dust from his legs. "So I suppose once you move in," Charles comments idly, though the implication of that excites them both, "there's just one question: How do we tell the children?"

Magneto grins. "I think I've already made them suspicious by using the front door," he notes, and Charles' laughter is genuine and bright and fills his heart with light and love and everything good.


End file.
